Wow. Since coming to Japan, I decided I was going to take a break from the vegetarian thing for a bit…I had heard it was next to impossible to eat here if you were, and I’ve always enjoyed sushi and kobe. So, I had to try it. As I’ve been here for the better part of a week at this point, things were pretty much fine. Then starting last night, I had a really rough go of it with my bowels. It was reminiscent of the symptoms we all had in Thailand. Lots of shits, all the time. I had to run to the bathroom several times last night, with much of it feeling like I was pissing out of my ass. On top of that, I got really drunk with Joe and didn’t make it home until around 3AM. This is all beside the point, but this morning, the the whole of today I was dealing with the same thing. I didn’t go to Shinjuku or Akiabara because I was worried I wouldn’t be able to find a toilet. The thought crossed my mind that perhaps my bowel issues had to do with all the meat I’d been consuming — especially because I haven’t had any in a couple of months. Too much fat perhaps? Whatever it was, things have started improving a bit. I started the day with an Acai bowl, which felt SO good to eat after feeling like I’ve been eating nothing but rice and meat for the last week.

The core of this story is that as I was walking home, I had been thinking about eating dinner — sushi came to mind, as I’ve only had it a couple of times since I’ve been here, which felt like a shame. As I walked past a nice looking sushi place just down the street from my hostel, the waiter came out to see if I’d like a table. I figured, “What the hell, it’s close, it’s got a trip advisor sign on it, and it looks nice,” but I wasn’t ready to eat yet, so I told the gentleman that I’d be back in a bit. So about an hour later I turned up again, to a smiling and likely surprised waiter. He sat me right in the middle of the sushi bar, and we got down to business. Of course I ordered the chefs recommended menu, which was a platter of sashimi of his choosing. The main sushi chef in front of me was busy making a bed of radish and those big green leaves, when I noticed a large fish tank behind him with about a dozen 10” fish swimming against a current. Just then the movement of a net caught my eye — the other chef had just pulled a fish from the tank and was struggling to get it out of the net. It was then that the thought crossed my mind that they would be killing this fish then serving it to me; super fresh. This made my stomach turn. What I wasn’t ready for was while the chef held the fish down on the cutting board, instead of cutting off the head like I had expected, he slid the razor sharp steel blade under the scales just in front of the tail, and cut a filet clean up to the fin. This piece slid away with a modicum of blood coating the scene. The chef then flipped the fish over and proceeded to do the same procedure on the other side. These pieces were cleaned, cut in half, then delivered to the main chef who was preparing my dish. I was blanched at the thought of eating this — my issue with “meat” in the past always had to do with it looking like what it was; that was my issue. So a burger or a hotdog was totally disassociated with the animal that it came from. A squeamish queasiness came over me when I saw what came next; the fish that had been swimming just minutes ago was now on a stick, it’s mouth still opening and closing as if it were gasping for air, and its tail, while rigid from the stick stuck through it, still flicked every now and again. This still-alive fish was placed as a centerpiece of the dish, with its recently carved meat piled high above its carcass, topped with diced green onion and fresh wasabi.

I swallowed hard as the plate was put in front of me. It took everything I had to be jovial with the chef and waiter – they could see the uneasy expression on my face, and to them it was more of a joke, like look at the westerner who’s never seen a fish before! With it’s large eyes looking up at me, I closed mine and said a little prayer, and when I opened them, I completely zoned out and tried to eat everything as normally as possible. There were a few times where I had to close my eyes, breathe slowly, and will the food to go down. Was this punishment for the last week of gluttonous meat-eating, or was it just a way of bringing me literally face-to-face with what I was eating. I had to confront it this time in a way that I’ve never had to in the past, and sincerely hope I don’t every have to do again. It was devastating and horrifying and in a moment completely turned me off from sushi. I thought I’d had an issue with seafood before, but this is different; this is real. The thought of that dish gives me shivers, and a chill sending goosebumps flickering up my arms. This is the reality of eating meat – I am eating another animal. Whatever people say about their minds, souls, processing power, etc. it doesn’t matter. When I see an animal, I see a living creature. I will not harm them if it’s not necessary. I am so over all this. I think I’ve even been turned off from trying Dario’s food again. Wow. Face to face.